


i'll make this feel like home

by merlypops



Series: Space Husbands (Paul Stamets/Hugh Culber) [5]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Academy Era, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Anxiety, Awkward Flirting, Best Friends, Coffee Shops, Declarations Of Love, Falling In Love, First Dates, First Kiss, First Love, First Meetings, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Hugh just wants him to open up, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Past Depression, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Paul is awkward and sarcastic and he hides his emotions with bluster, Roommates, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Starfleet Academy, i mean probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-01-23 16:45:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12511792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merlypops/pseuds/merlypops
Summary: “I got hit in the face."“Why?”“Because I study mushrooms as a hobby. Because I love astromycology more than anything else. Because I’m small and awkward andqueer, doctor. Because I tell people who talk shit that they talk shit.” Paul took a deep shaky breath. “In what universe is this going to end well for me, doctor?”“This one,” was the firm reply he received. “Thisone, mushroom guy.”Paul loves his mushrooms but he loves Hugh more (and Paul's roommate Straal is just along for the ride).Based on "Home" by One Direction.





	1. Chalciporus Pipertus

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, so after asking you guys on my star trek discovery blog ( **paulstametsmushroomking.tumblr.com** ), you told me you'd like to read the Academy Era!Culmets fic I was considering writing so... here goes nothing.  
> Fingers crossed you enjoy it <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Chalciporus piperatus_ \- peppery bolete.

Nothing in the world could make this farce of an evening fun.

Paul was standing in the corner of the room with a brimming plastic cup of some indiscernible alcohol his roommate had pressed into his hand upon arriving. The music was disgustingly loud and there were drunk people _everywhere_ , and somewhere along the way he’d lost sight of Straal too which was kind of awkward since… y’know… no one else besides his roommate at Starfleet Academy actually liked him.

Long story short, Paul didn’t want to be here.

He couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that people actually crammed themselves into awful situations like this for _fun_. It made no sense to him at all that - to the general population at least - it was a rite of passage to embarrass yourself at occasions like these before suffering through your first week of lectures at Starfleet Academy with a hangover of truly epic proportions.

It just made no sense to him - and if there was one thing Paul hated, it was things not making sense - because if he was _drunk_ , he was going to make a fool of himself, and if he was _hungover_ then he was going to miss his research or his classes.

Maybe his roommate hated him and _that_ was why he’d brought him here.

Maybe he was trying to tell Paul that he wanted a new roommate without actually telling him that he found him either: a) prickly, b) too sarcastic, c) weirdly neurotic, or d) all of the above.

“Hey. Hey, Straal!” Paul called sourly when he saw his roommate re-emerging from the kitchen with his arm around someone so insignificant that Paul didn’t even bother to look at them. “Straal, I hate you.” He had to really shout to be heard over the raucous music and his roommate suppressed a smile with difficulty, covering his heart with one hand in a typically over-dramatic fashion as he gasped with mock pain.

“What did I ever do to you, Stamets?!” Straal demanded. “You’ve only known me three damn days!” His dark eyes twinkled as he spoke and Paul was honest-to-god _pouting_ now.

“You dragged me here!” he snapped, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably and grimacing when his untouched drink slopped out onto the unassuming patch of carpet he’d claimed. “I would have been perfectly happy in the room studying fungi but you just _had_ to drag me out to ‘meet people’... and you thought it was going to be _fun_?! It’s painful is what is is!”

“Wait… you study fungi?” the guy Straal was standing with asked, his jaw hanging slack for a moment before he gave a drunken grin that vaguely made Paul want to slam his fist through a wall. “Does that mean you get high on ‘shrooms? Are you a _fun-guy_? D’ya get it? Fun-guy? Fungi?”

Paul regarded the drunken cretin flatly while his roommate gave a good-natured wince.

“Straal, I’m leaving,” Paul said.

Straal seemed to be struggling to rearrange his amused expression into something milder.

“Sure,” he said easily. “I’ll see you back at the room later - and never say I didn’t _try_ to help your social life, ‘kay?”

“‘ _kay_ ,” Paul mimicked, rolling his blue eyes skyward before he set his full cup on the nearest available surface and started elbowing innocent partygoers out of the way. He was almost starting to feel a bit _anxious_ which seemed silly. He might not have been enjoying the evening but there was no reason his irritation and unease should build into anxiety.

Maybe it was the upheaval of moving to Starfleet Academy in general. Paul had always been happiest when he was settled in his routine so uprooting himself from his hometown in Illinois and moving to California had left him feeling unsurprisingly rattled.

His discomfort was building in his chest now and Paul exhaled shakily as he finally lurched out of the front door. He was about as far from the room he shared with Straal on campus as it was possible to get but at least the twenty minute walk home might help him calm down a little, especially if he spent the time using the relatively simple exercise he had come up with (which had the added bonus of making him feel like he was still working on his research even when he was nowhere near his PADD).

“ _Agaricus bernardii_ \- salty mushroom. _Agaricus bisporus_ \- cultivated mushroom. _Agaricus bitorquis_ \- pavement mushroom.” He mumbled his way through them as he walked through the darkness, scowling whenever he couldn’t remember a name and barrelling on whenever he got them right. There was no room for praise with something as important as his research.

Paul was going to use it to discover the very fabric of their universe once he finally made it as a qualified science officer. Paul was going to take his mycology research to the fucking _stars_.

“ _Ceriporiopsis gilvescens_ \- pink porecrust. _Ceriporiopsis pannocincta_ \- green porecrust. _Chaetodermella luna_ \- crescent crust. _Chalciporus piperatus_ \- peppery… uh… damn. _Damn_!”

Paul sounded crazy probably but he didn’t much care. It was already well gone midnight and it didn’t _matter_ that he remembered that _chamaemyces fracidus_ was latin for ‘dewdrop dapperling’ because… because… _fuck_ , he’d forgotten it.

The one thing he was good at and he couldn’t remember it.

“Hey, mushroom guy,” an unfamiliar voice said and Paul snorted before he could stop himself. “You’re being kind of inconsiderate.”

Paul squinted at the speaker, his blue eyes narrowing a little before he managed to make out the man lingering in the doorway of the student accommodation nearby. He only looked a year or two older than Paul - twenty years old tops. He was dark-skinned with clippered hair and broad shoulders straining beneath the dark blue t-shirt he wore which denoted he was training to be a medical officer. Paul was relieved it was so dark because he was fairly certain his cheeks were flaming.

“What did I do?” Paul demanded, trying to pretend that his mouth hadn’t gone dry at the stranger standing there frowning at him.

“You were yelling about mushrooms. I could hear it from inside. You know, some of us actually have lectures tomorrow.”

“I have lectures too,” Paul pointed out half-heartedly but he was embarrassed now and he hated it… hated feeling small and uncomfortable, like he messed up everything just by being him. “Um… I’m sorry if… if I kept you awake. I’m just gonna…” Paul gestured awkwardly behind him before spinning on his heel and hurrying off in the direction of their apartment block.

“Hey, wait!” the stranger called and Paul hesitated, glancing back warily as he lingered in the shadows of the trees growing at equal distances down the paved road. “Computer?” the man asked and his voice was so warm that Paul found himself biting his lip curiously. “Define ‘ _Chalciporus pipertus_ ’.”

There was a moment of silence, during which all Paul could hear was the wind whistling through the leaves and the thundering of his pulse. The dark man smiled at him despite the distance between them and Paul’s heart felt too big for his ribcage.

“‘ _Chalciporus pipertus_ ’ is the scientific name for the ‘peppery bolete’ mushroom,” the computer recited.

The moon gleamed from the sky overhead and the stranger disappeared back into his apartment with a wave which the blond man awkwardly returned.

“Thank you,” Paul whispered as he wrapped his arms around himself tightly, standing there alone on the street. “Thank you, doctor.”


	2. Cortinarius Talus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Cortinarius talus_ \- honey webcap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, everyone! I really loved writing this chapter so I hope you will enjoy reading it!  
> I love academy era Paul/Hugh so damn much honestly, it's actually getting ridiculous.

“I still think we should have told the Dean,” Straal muttered as Paul led the way into the canteen on campus a few days later. He kept his head high and his chin jutted belligerently, and it might have had the desired effect of making him appear confident and unfazed if he hadn’t been sporting a split lip, along with a rather magnificent black eye.

“No one likes a snitch, Straal,” Paul muttered as he headed for the stack of trays nearby, his blue eyes - or _eye_ , he supposed, since one was swollen shut - already tracing the counters nearby as he tried to decide between porridge and some vaguely congealed-looking scrambled egg.

“Paul, if you don’t report this then you’re going to make whoever the hell it was think it’s okay for them to do it again,” Straal said hotly and one pale brow rose on Paul’s face when he realised that his roommate seemed genuinely concerned about him.

“You care,” Paul stated and it wasn’t a question… just a confused statement. “Why? You don’t know me. Not really.”

“I know you don’t deserve to get punched in the face, no matter _how_ mouthy you are,” Straal pointed out but he managed a vaguely weak smile anyway, clapping the blond man on the shoulder and nudging him forwards in line.

“You should get an orange,” Straal said, even as he scooped one up and dumped it onto the shorter man’s tray without asking. “Citrus fruits have vitamin C and bioflavonoids. They should make your face heal up quicker.”

“Trying to prove how smart you are?” Paul asked but, despite his flat tone, he did feel grateful and he thought Straal might be able to see it in his eyes because his expression softened.

“Maybe a little bit,” the taller man teased. “But at least I -” He faltered suddenly, his dark eyes widening as he clapped a hand (overly dramatically) to his mouth. “What day is it?” he asked weakly, his words coming out muffled behind his palm. Paul rolled his eyes, already able to see where this was going.

“It’s Wednesday,” he said. “I assume by your panicked look that you’re supposed to be elsewhere?”

“I’ve got Probability Mechanics!” Straal gasped, standing there clutching his empty tray for a moment before he all but flung it at his roommate.

“Yikes,” Paul muttered, seriously considering dropping it before he saw the puppy dog eyes Straal was sending his way.

“Please put this back for me? _Please_?” his roommate begged. “Oh my god, my class starts in five minutes and it’s all the way across campus. Fuck, I’m _screwed_. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. Should I just message in sick so I don’t have that awkward moment where you arrive late? Or should I -”

“Run,” Paul said flatly. “Just run, Straal.”

His roommate hurtled out of the canteen with a muffled curse and the blond man turned away, sighing heavily as he gave his orange an unhappy look and picked some toast too. His face was starting to throb now that he had been reminded of it and his teeth worried at his sore lip as he swiped his pass before carrying his breakfast towards the nearest empty table.

He propped his chin up in his palm as he slumped in his seat, nibbling on a toast crust and shooting the citrus fruit baleful looks. He didn’t like sitting with his back to the room now, especially after he’d apparently pissed off half of the student body in just over a week of being there.

“ _Cortinarius semisanguineus_ \- surprise webcap. _Cortinarius sodagnitus_ \- bitter bigfoot webcap. _Cortinarius spilomeus_ \- freckled webcap.”

His heart calmed in his chest as he sat there and he started on his orange with a little more enthusiasm. He hoped Straal made it to Probability Mechanics in time. He hoped no one hit him today.

“ _Cortinarius splendens_ \- splendid webcap. _Cortinarius subtortus_ \- incense webcap.” Paul’s eyes flickered to the entrance as he bit into the first segment, savouring the taste of the juice as he began to people watch. “ _Cortinarius talus_ \- honey webcap.”

When a familiar figure suddenly appeared beside the seat across from him, Paul choked on his orange.

“Good morning,” that warm voice said. “Mind if I sit here?”

Paul was still vaguely choking on his orange juice but he managed to gesture for the guy to take the seat. The beautiful Latino doctor sat down smoothly - and it wasn’t like Paul had been _dwelling_ on the guy’s beauty or anything; it was just that… well… he had _eyes_ \- and the concerned look Paul received made him feel like a complete idiot as he finally managed to draw in a ragged gasp.

“Sorry,” the guy said, his dark eyes twinkling a little although the look of worry didn’t fade. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It wasn’t that,” Paul disagreed coolly although he shot his orange a wary look as he pushed the peel away. “You just took me by surprise. I was thinking.”

“About?” the taller man asked curiously before digging into his bowl of cereal.

“Mycelium,” Paul said, only to smile thinly when he received a blank look in return. “Mushrooms, dear doctor. Mycology. _Astro_ mycology. Spores. Fungi. Symbiosis. The link between hyphae and the germination of spores, and how this might be altered in the vacuum of space.”

“That’s brilliant,” the doctor murmured, his whole face softening for a moment before he lowered his face with apparent embarrassment. “ _Brilliant_.”

“I know,” Paul said quietly and there must have been something in his voice because the doctor looked up cautiously, his chocolate brown eyes searching the smaller man’s face. Paul wasn’t sure what he was looking for but, judging by the sadness dawning in the doctor’s eyes, he never found it.

Perhaps he was looking to see if Paul was being smug or arrogant when he agreed that his research was brilliant. If he was, he would be sorely disappointed.

Paul had never been one for self-love.

There were more important things than caring about himself.

“Hey,” the doctor said gently and his voice was little more than a murmur now, his uniform neat and crisp although it crumpled a little when he leant closer across the table. “What happened to you?” When Paul simply watched him in silence, the doctor withdrew a little as his lips tugged down in a frown. “You’re hurt.”

Paul swallowed down the shame he could feel rising and tightening in his chest.

“I got hit in the face,” he muttered, reaching blindly for a piece of orange peel and beginning to shred it methodically between his fingers. He suddenly wished that his slicked back blond hair was long enough to fall forwards and hide his face because he hated how vulnerable he felt right now… hated that the doctor could see him like this in all of his pathetic glory.

“Why?”

The word was softly spoken but the sadness saturating that single syllable shook Paul up because… god, it was one thing for Straal to care but this guy? This random student whose _name_ he didn’t even know?

It ignited an anger in him which made no sense even to _Paul_ \- let alone the poor doctor - but the blond man was powerless to rein it in. He let the bitterness flood his voice instead; felt the throb of his eye and lip, and lost himself in it because it was less painful than focusing on how much of a freak everyone here made him feel.

“Because I study mushrooms as a hobby,” he snapped, dropping the orange peel and flattening his palms on the slightly sticky table with a grimace. “Because I love astromycology more than anything else. Because I’m small and awkward and _queer_ , doctor. Because I tell people who talk shit that they talk shit.” Paul took a deep shaky breath, the red flush in his cheeks spreading down to his throat in blotches as his embarrassment threatened to overwhelm him.

“In what universe is this going to end well for me, doctor?”

“This one,” was the firm reply he received. “ _This_ one, mushroom guy.”

The blond man’s lips twitched a little as he stared down awkwardly at the table.

“My name’s Paul,” he said. “Paul Stamets.”

There was a soft intake of breath, followed by a quiet sigh.

“Hugh,” the doctor said gently. “Hugh Culber.”

He hesitated for a moment before reaching out across the table, his hand falling just a little short of Paul’s. Their fingertips were almost touching and the blond man inhaled shakily as he closed his eyes for a moment.

“Maybe you shouldn’t sit with me,” he muttered. “They might single you out too.”

“ _They_?” Hugh repeated, picking out on the relevant word there as his nostrils flared angrily. “Damnit, Paul. Maybe it’s _those_ arseholes who shouldn’t be so close-minded about the things they don’t understand. Don’t just write off you getting hurt like it’s something you’ve accepted.”

“Even if it is?” Paul asked flatly, still refusing to make eye contact. “Even if it’s something I’ve literally had to deal with my whole life?” The blond man sighed at the disheartened expression on Hugh’s face. “I’ve got to get to Astrosciences,” Paul said abruptly. “Sorry to cut this short but… later.” He waved awkwardly, scooped his orange peel up, and headed for the nearest waste receptacle.

Paul was already heading determinedly down the paved walkway outside when he noticed Hugh keeping step beside him, still carrying his half-eaten bowl of cereal although Paul was certain he shouldn’t have taken the crockery from the canteen.

“What?” Hugh asked innocently when he caught sight of Paul giving him a mildly disapproving look. “I have Xenobiology now. It’s a coincidence that my classroom seems to be in the same direction as yours.”

“Liar,” Paul said but his blue eyes lit up a little all the same. “Xenobiology’s over in the northern block. You’ll be late.”

“This is more important,” Hugh said and his sincerity seemed to take _him_ by surprise too. He glanced down at his cereal for a moment, seemingly collecting his thoughts. “I just wanted to make sure you know that, while you don’t _have_ to report this, I really do think you should consider it. You don’t deserve to be hurt.”

“I don’t care about myself, Hugh.” Paul didn’t think the words were a big deal but the doctor seemed to absorb them like a physical blow and his hand was shaking when he reached for the smaller man’s shoulder, only to let it fall at the last moment. (Paul wished he hadn’t.)

“I do,” Hugh said firmly. “ _I_ care.”

He stopped walking abruptly and something brought Paul to a standstill too… possibly his racing heart. Hugh set his cereal bowl on a low stone wall separating the path from the grass before he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, taking a deep breath as he steeled himself for something.

“Doctor?” Paul asked hesitantly and Hugh looked up at him, his cheeks red and his eyes too bright. The sheer _glow_ of him took Paul’s breath away.

“Look, I just wanted to say.... I work on the Medbay here on Wednesdays and Thursdays in the afternoon - it’s my field placement, see? - and… you know… ah crap, I don’t know if you’ll want to but -”

“Spit it out, Hugh,” Paul said and, although he’d meant for his words to come out sharply, something had gone wrong because his voice sounded gentle.

“I would really like it if you came by later once your classes are finished,” Hugh said, his tone slightly breathless as he directed his voice towards his bowl of cereal sitting innocuously nearby. “I can find something to help the swelling go down in your eye and then… maybe… coffee? We could go for coffee? Or… or hot chocolate… or iced tea I guess… or maybe you’re more of a tea guy? Although you don’t seem like a tea guy. Maybe a milkshake? Or -”

“Now you’re just listing beverages,” Paul said but he was smiling against his better judgement. “Dear doctor, are you asking me out on a date?”

Hugh let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding as a huge smile spread across his lips.

“I think perhaps I am,” he said and Paul’s heart skipped a beat in his chest. “I’d like to learn more about astromycology and you seem like the man to do it.”

“Finally someone here who talks sense!” Paul said and his face lit up and, although his split lip began bleeding anew when his grin spread, he’d never cared about anything less. “That’s most definitely a yes, Hugh.”

They parted ways quickly after that, the doctor scurrying off with his cereal bowl and a huge beaming grin, and Paul hurrying towards his Astrosciences classroom with poorly-suppressed jubilance.

He told the Dean what had happened during his lunch break and the woman promised she would get to the bottom of the incident, and by the time Paul met up with Hugh later that day and had various salves applied to his sore face, his mood had lightened considerably.

“You look happier,” Hugh noticed when he stepped back to survey his handiwork, letting a satisfied smile slip across his face when he saw both of Paul’s bright blue eyes watching him steadily.

“I think you might be right,” the blond man admitted. “You might have had something to do with that.” Hugh’s smile spread slowly across his face like honey and Paul fought down the ridiculous urge to kiss him - it was too much, too fast, too soon… and besides, Hugh would probably get bored or annoyed by him soon enough.

There was no need to make things any harder than they needed to be.

“Paul,” Hugh said softly and the blond man hurriedly spoke over him, afraid of the softness in the doctor’s eyes.

“Just for the record, Hugh, I _am_ a tea man,” Paul added. “You can’t go wrong with tea.”

“I’ll bear that in mind,” Hugh said with a gentle smile.

Meeting up for breakfast on Wednesdays became a weekly tradition after that and, although Paul frequently tried to pretend otherwise, they very quickly became his favourite day of the week… and Hugh?

He became Paul’s favourite person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you thought!  
> I can't wait to write the next chapter <3  
> Thank you so much for reading :)


	3. Fuscoporia Ferrea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Fuscoporia ferrea_ \- cinnamon porecrust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this is making me so emotional honestly. I love Paul and Hugh so much, and they're so hard and yet so easy to write, and I just cannot stop. (Hopefully you guys don't mind.)  
> You can find me on tumblr under my personal (merlypops) or my Star Trek side blog (paulstametsmushroomking) - come and be friends!  
> Fingers crossed you enjoy this <3

By the time Halloween rolled around, Paul felt like he’d been at Starfleet Academy for years.

He enjoyed his classes, his astromycological research was _flourishing_ , and he hadn’t been punched in the face again which was nice (although this was probably because he rarely ventured out without Straal or Hugh anymore).

Something Paul _hadn’t_ expected was his rapidly blooming friendship with his roommate. Straal was still as overly dramatic and dryly amusing as he’d ever been but there was something about him that kept Paul from pushing him away like he did everyone else.

He thought it might be due to those quiet conversations they shared in the darkness at night; the murmured discussions about sexuality and their pasts, about their hopes and dreams, and the things they were afraid they’d never achieve.

Paul thought maybe his very _favourite_ thing about Straal was that he shared Paul’s interest - okay, _obsession_ \- with astromycology which was something the blond man had never shared with anyone before. Straal made him feel less of a freak.

He made Paul feel like he belonged.

The blond man dwelled on this as he wandered along beneath the cloudy sky. Autumn had swept across California quickly that year, turning the foliage of the neatly-planted trees on campus the colour of amber and bronze.

Paul had never felt like this before… so lucky and hopeful… so _light_. Growing so close to Straal was possibly the only thing that had given Paul the confidence to pursue his relationship with Hugh - if it could even be _called_ a relationship - and the blond man felt ridiculously grateful for that.

The doctor was just so funny and patient, and he always knew just what sarcastic comment he needed to make to get Paul to pull his head out of his arse and actually pay attention. It was incredibly refreshing to find someone who could match him head on and, possibly _because_ of this, Paul did his best to keep the doctor at arm’s length.

Hugh could see to the heart of him so easily and there was something incredibly frightening about that; about letting someone he trusted close enough to hurt him. Paul was afraid that if he let Hugh see those most basic parts of him that he would leave and maybe that was why he tried to keep his distance.

It was all for nothing though.

The moment Paul walked into the cafe Hugh had picked and saw the taller man sitting at the counter with his beautiful eyes skimming over what seemed to be a medical journal on his PADD, Paul’s heart tried to beat right out of his chest.

He felt breathless as he tripped closer, drying his damp hands on the legs of his brown corduroy trousers as he hesitated behind his… his…

Oh god, what _was_ Hugh? Apart from attractive and warm and… and _incredibly_ distracting. Paul had no idea and it bothered him more than he could say.

Suddenly ridiculously embarrassed although he couldn’t have said why, Paul sat down a few seats away from Hugh and kept his eyes fixed firmly on the menu board, trying to ignore how he could see the doctor smiling widely from nearby. Paul’s cheeks were heating up and he resisted the urge to bury his head in his hands as the barista signalled that she would just be a minute while she finished with another customer.

“ _Fomitopsis pinicola_ \- red-belted bracket. _Fomitopsis rosea_ \- rose bracket. _Fuscoporia ferrea_ \- cinnamon porecrust.”

Paul’s near-silent murmur was interrupted very rudely by humming. Really _annoying_ humming.

“ _Fuscoporia ferruginosa_ \- rusty porecrust,” Paul continued a little louder, too stubborn to stop now although a frown was creasing his forehead at that _damn_ humming. God, was Hugh trying to make him headbutt the counter? Did he want Paul to leave? “ _Fuscoporia torulosa_ \- tufted bracket. _Galerina clavata_ \- ribbed bell. _Galerina_ \- Damnit, Hugh! What is that even supposed to be?!”

The doctor snorted out a highly amused laugh and Paul scowled at him, trying not to show his amusement at their ridiculous game.

“It’s the Kasselian Opera,” Hugh replied innocently, giving a passable flutter of his long eyelashes. “You don’t like it?” With that, the doctor started humming again and Paul mimed slamming his head into the counter.

“Stifle it or sit somewhere else,” he pleaded and Hugh grinned, sliding into the seat beside him.

“Thought you’d never ask,” he said with a grin, making Paul roll his eyes good naturedly. “So… what drink can I get you? Are you finally going to reveal what tea you prefer?”

“Doubtful,” Paul replied, his blue eyes twinkling. “I’m in more of a coffee mood today. I have a paper on Cosmology to write when I get back to the dorm so I’m going to need the caffeine.” His cheeks heated a little when he noticed the soft look Hugh was levelling at him and Paul looked away, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “So… any drink suggestions?”

“We’re getting cinnamon mochas,” Hugh decided without hesitation. “They are the god of caffeinated beverages. All other drinks look puny by comparison.”

“You’re really weird,” Paul noted and the taller man smiled easily.

“And that’s why you like me,” he said. “Now, why don’t you go find us a table, okay? I’ll be over with the drinks in a sec.”

Paul did as he was told for once, weaving between the tables as he heard Hugh ordering their coffees behind him. The early afternoon sky was darkening outside with the hint of rain but it was warm in the cafe, the windows just beginning to fog up with condensation as the lamps set into the walls flickered with the illusion of candlelight.

A lump rose inexplicably in Paul’s throat as he watched Hugh ordering, took in the sparkle of his chocolate brown eyes and his broad shoulders tensing under his thick-knit jumper as he gestured to something up on the menu board. He was so good and bright.

Paul didn’t know what he’d done to trick Hugh into giving him the time of day, much less so much of his attention and kindness.

“ _Galerina hypnorum_ \- moss bell. _Galerina marginata_ \- funeral bell.” Paul started up the litany unthinkingly, sinking back into the comfort of his research as he tried to forget the fact that he didn’t feel good enough for Hugh’s kindness… for _anyone’s_.

Paul had been raised to believe that he had to earn love - and that he would probably never be able to - and it didn’t come naturally to him to accept kindness now.

It made him feel like a frightened child.

“ _Galerina paludosa_ \- bog bell. _Galerina pumila_ \- dwarf bell,” Paul continued in a choked whisper. “ _Galerina vittiformis_ \- hairy leg bell.”

“Who has hairy legs?” Hugh asked cheerfully as he returned, balancing their drinks and a plate of what _looked_ like chocolate chip cookies on a small tray. His bright voice pierced every part of Paul and the blond man withered a little as he sank down in his seat.

“Certainly not me,” he managed with just a hint of his usual bite. “I’m too blond for that. It’s actually a bit embarrassing.”

“At least you don’t need to _wax_ ,” Hugh said in such a long-suffering voice that Paul actually laughed before the doctor shook his head slowly. “I’m kidding of course. Love what your mamma gave you and all that jazz.”

Paul smiled as he gratefully accepted his drink but it didn’t touch his eyes and Hugh’s brow creased a little as he slipped into the seat across from him at the little round table Paul had picked.

“Why do you do that?” Hugh asked softly, although he elaborated when he received only a look of mild confusion as an answer. “The mushrooms. Why’d you list them like that? Is it to test your memory or, like, a comfort thing? I don’t understand it.”

“Oh.” Paul hung his head for a moment, scratching idly at the wooden surface of the table with a bitten fingernail as Hugh reached to hook their ankles together hesitantly under the table, letting out a quiet sigh when Paul shot him a small, surprised smile. “It’s like… an anxiety thing I guess? It helps me get my thoughts in order and… y’know… if I’m thinking about that - about _anything_ to do with my research - well, it stops me from freaking out and embarrassing myself in various public places.”

Hugh’s brow creased at the self-deprecating tone Paul had adopted and he reached across the table slowly, his movements so deliberate that it felt a lot like he was approaching a frightened animal. (Paul wished that description didn’t feel so accurate.)

Hugh opened his mouth to respond but words seemed to fail him for a moment and he seemed content to simply watch the blond man in silence, taking in his trembling hands closing around the warm mug and the way his blond hair was a little messy from walking here in the wind. Outside, the first raindrops began to roll down the window and Hugh’s chocolate brown eyes threatened to swallow Paul whole as he gazed into them.

“You don’t have to be afraid when you’re with me,” Hugh said after what felt like a long time. “I don’t know what’s happened to you and I’m not going to ask but… you’re safe with me. I hope you know that.”

“You’ve read too many romance novels,” Paul said because it was easier than trying to put into words the way his heart was trying to beat right out of his ribcage at Hugh’s fond smile.

“I’m more of a non-fiction kind of guy myself,” the taller man disagreed and Paul relaxed, his lips tugging up crookedly when Hugh took a sip of his drink, his dark eyes twinkling over the rim of his mug.

“I find I’m partial to the occasional biography too, although of course you’re sworn to secrecy,” Paul warned before hesitating for a moment. “I value honesty above almost everything else, dear doctor,” he said in a quieter voice. “So… reading about the truth like that… about people brave enough not to hide who they are… well, it makes me feel strong enough to be myself and… yikes. Sorry. I just sort of… emotionally vomited over you.”

Hugh raised an eyebrow but his lips twitched all the same.

“Y’know, aside from that truly delightful imagery, I actually feel very lucky,” he said slowly. “I get the feeling you don’t often open up like this, Officer Stamets. I’m pleased you feel comfortable enough to talk to me like this… and I like that you like the truth too. I like it a lot.”

Paul’s blush even coloured his _ears_ and, so embarrassed that he could barely process what the doctor had said, all the blond man managed to splutter out was: “I’m not an Officer.”

“No,” Hugh agreed calmly. “Not yet. But you will be.”

“Oh?” Paul asked. “How can you tell?”

Hugh’s smile stretched wider.

“You have this look about you. It’s confident and sort of arrogant, and I feel like you’d be really good at bossing people about.”

When Paul simply blinked at him in complete mortification and Hugh suddenly flushed beetroot red as he realised what he’d been implying, Paul had the delight of watching the doctor desperately digging himself an even deeper hole as a nervous giggle escaped him.

“I meant - _god_ , like… like all those little underlings you’re obviously going to have? And they’d just listen to you because, you know, when you’re being all confident or whatever then you have this _voice_ and like…. Wow…. wow, I’m flustered. I, Hugh Culber, am flustered. I should leave now probably. I should go dig myself a hole in the quad and bury myself in it.”

For the first time since their _thing_ had started, Paul made the first move. His pale hand shot out and he wrapped his fingers loosely around the doctor’s wrist, keeping him there more with his imploring gaze than the hand on his arm.

“Don’t you dare,” Paul said and his eyes gleamed. “It’s nice to know I’m not the only one who becomes an inarticulate mess around attractive men.”

“You think I’m attractive?” Hugh asked, looking ridiculously pleased with himself. Paul graced him with a roll of his wryly amused eyes.

“Is the sky blue?” he retorted and Hugh grinned weakly.

“Not _everywhere_ ,” he said, thrusting a cookie towards Paul before the blond man could make a cutting remark. Hugh’s face brightened adorably when Paul nibbled the edge and let out a surprised “ _mmm_ ” sound as the chocolate washed over his tongue.

“They’re good, huh?” Hugh said knowledgeably, reaching for his own cookie and taking a large bite out of it. Paul was content to simply nod lazily in reply, his eyes abruptly widening when he realised his palm was still resting gently over Hugh’s.

He thought about moving it but the skin was so warm and soft, and he could feel the gentle thrumming of Hugh’s pulse beneath his fingertips. There was something fragile about this moment, so delicate and soft and perfect.

Paul never wanted it to end.

“Y’know, it’s strange,” he murmured and it was only Hugh’s curious look that told Paul he was saying the words out loud. “I usually only find my mushrooms this absorbing.”

“Well, I’m not a fungus,” Hugh said fairly, making Paul smile as a truly terrible joke revealed itself to him.

“I don’t know about that, dear doctor. You look like a… _fungi_.”

“That’s it. I’m leaving.”

“That was my reaction the first fifty times I heard that dumb joke as well,” Paul said fairly but he grinned when Hugh flicked a cookie crumb at him in reprimand. “It started to grow on me after that though. Now I figure I might start wearing a t-shirt that proclaims what a ‘fungi’ I am. Maybe I should get a giant toadstool costume for Halloween. That could be a conversation starter, right? Not that I’m very interested in starting conversations… or costumes.”

“I’d still pay to see it,” Hugh said and Paul blushed at the affection growing on the taller man’s handsome face.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said, trying to remain aloof although his smile betrayed him and Hugh grinned like that was all he’d wanted to see.

With only the slightest hesitation, the doctor leant forwards and kissed him.

With even less hesitation, Paul kissed him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> I hope you liked it and I can't wait to hear what you thought <3  
> I'm excited to keep writing this!  
> Also, if you celebrate Halloween, I hope you had fun and stayed safe! And if you didn't celebrate it, I hope you had the best Tuesday night ever.


	4. Hygrophorus Hedrychii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Hygrophorus hedrychii_ \- sweet woodwax.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!  
> I had so much fun writing this chapter. It's super lame - basically just fluff, a teeny tiny bit of smut (sort of), and a ton of crack but I loved imagining it.  
> I hope you'll have fun reading it!  
> Enjoy <3

Paul woke up with an anxiety pressing on his chest that hadn’t been there the night before.

It seemed to take a lot of effort to open his eyes and he frowned up at the ceiling as he lay there, gazing at the whorls of plaster as Straal showered in their tiny bathroom next door. They’d been sharing this room for over three months now and, as December loomed ever closer, Paul looked around their shared space dispassionately.

It was inoffensive enough, he supposed. There were two single beds, two desks, two chests of drawers, two pinboards (which seemed a little out of date now if Paul was being honest with himself), and a mirror mounted on the wall. Paul had covered his side of the room with pages of his research and sketched diagrams of how he believed the mycelium was connected within the spores he’d been studying so hard in his spare time.

Paul wondered if he’d ever be able to prove his theory that a web of the spores could enable a spacecraft to ‘jump’. Then he wondered if anyone would even listen to him if he did.

The bathroom door opened suddenly to reveal Straal standing there, wrapped up in a large fluffy towel and dripping lukewarm water all over the carpet as the steam billowed out into their room.

“That is _not_ a happy face,” Straal said pointedly as he lifted the towel to dry his soaking hair. Paul groaned and covered his eyes with the duvet, making Straal give a triumphant snort.

“If you don’t cover yourself up right this second,” Paul began threateningly, still with his face buried in the duvet. “I’m going to record this on my PADD and I’m going to post it on the student-wide message board, and you’re going to regret ever flashing Tiny Straal.”

“It’s not _tiny_ ,” Straal said sulkily but he deigned to cover himself with the towel again and Paul sat up with a faint smirk, counting that one as a win. The dark-haired man was still muttering something probably-offensive under his breath but he shot Paul a slight smile when he finally located some clean underwear and the blond man felt a little calmer.

Somehow, over the last few months of living together, many of their boundaries had fallen away. Straal knew so much more about Paul’s past than anyone else _ever_ had and the blond man knew Straal trusted him with his secrets too. Paul probably would have found it refreshing if he hadn’t kept getting unwanted eyefuls every time his roommate forgot to bring his clothes with him into the bathroom.

“Hey,” Straal said suddenly as realisation dawned on his face. “That was some superb deflection but I haven’t got short-term memory loss. You looked sad when I came in. What's up, buttercup?” His eyes twinkled at the stupid rhyme and Paul glowered at him.

“I hate you,” he groused but it was a lie and they both knew it. When Straal seemed content to simply watch him, the blond man sighed heavily. “I don’t know,” he said after a slight hesitation. “I guess I just… I woke up feeling bad. You have those days, right?”

“Everyone does,” Straal agreed but his voice was softer now. “Doesn’t make them any easier though.” He clutched at his towel half-heartedly as he began to rummage around looking for clothes, glancing back over his shoulder to give Paul a crooked smile. “At least it’s Saturday so we don’t have classes. You want to get dinner tonight or something? Catch a movie?”

“Only if you buy me flowers,” Paul joked, deadpan before a tiny smile touched his lips. “Unfortunately I’ll have to decline that generous offer on account of the fact that Hugh is coming to collect me at ten o’clock for our date.”

“Can’t believe you’re breaking up with me,” Straal teased but he was grinning all the same. “Nah, I’m happy for you. Maybe that’ll cheer you up… make you stop looking like a puppy that’s been kicked, yeah?”

“I hate you,” Paul repeated, with more feeling this time. Straal winked at him.

“Also, hate to break it to you, grumpy, but it’s already quarter to ten. You better get up and shower _now_ so you don’t smell like a dog when Doctor Love gets here.”

“Stop calling him Doctor Love,” Paul complained but his heart was racing now as he scrambled out of the bed, getting his foot caught in the duvet and almost falling before he righted himself on the desk. Straal snickered as Paul rushed past him into the bathroom. He snagged his towel off the rack and had barely reached for the dial to turn the water on when a glare spread across his pale face.

“Why can’t you wash the damn shower after you use it, Straal?!” Paul demanded through the closed door. “I hate you! I _hate_ you! You're the _worst_ roommate!”

“Fuck you too!” Straal called cheerfully, his voice muffled as he presumably wrestled his way into a jumper. “I didn’t see the point in wasting the cleaning spray. You can do it after we’ve _both_ showered. I’m just conserving our cleaning supplies and saving the Academy money. You should appreciate that.”

Paul loudly told Straal _exactly_ where he could stick that statement but he had to admit that, after a tepid shower – Starfleet Academy definitely needed to invest more funding in their bathroom facilities – Paul was feeling less like he wanted to sulk in his room all day.

“You only have six minutes!” Straal called helpfully from his vantage point where he was sitting on the windowsill. “Unless – wait a second –” Paul’s heart threatened to stop in his chest when a truly evil smile spread across his roommate’s face. “I do believe Doctor Love is running early. What does he look like?”

“Oh _shit_!” Paul gasped as he lurched towards his chest of drawers, dragging on a pair of boxers and two mismatched socks before he frantically struggled into the first clean t-shirt he found. Straal smiled evilly as he watched him hurriedly getting dressed. “Um… he’s tall, Latino, fucking _beautiful_ , and about a million times too attractive for me?”

“Silence!” Straal cried dramatically. “Self-deprecation will not be tolerated in Casa Mushroom.” He paused and grinned. “Doctor Love really is on his way up here though. You should probably put some trousers on.” Straal practically cackled when Paul tripped over in his desperate attempt to drag on some jeans. “You know, I do admire punctuality in a suitor,” he added in this ridiculously pompous voice. “Nothing but the best for my little buttercup.”

“Straal, I’m going to _skin_ you!” Paul threatened as he writhed around uselessly on the carpet, trying to get his foot through the leg of his jeans but… damnit, he hadn’t dried himself properly after his shower and this just wasn’t going to happen. He should probably just give up but accepting defeat without fighting had never been in the blond man's nature.

There were footsteps coming down the hallway outside now and both of Paul’s delightfully pasty thighs were still on display, and his roommate skipped delightedly across the room as he reached for the door handle. Paul’s fingers missed his roommate’s ankle by mere _millimetres_ as he reached for him.

“Straal, don’t you _dare_ open that –”

“Hello, doctor!” Straal cried as he pulled the door open with flourish, mere seconds before Hugh had raised his hand to knock. The taller man peered into their room for the first time with mild amusement, a surprised bubble of laughter escaping him when he saw Paul lying face down on the floor, half-dressed in his jeans with his soaking wet hair plastered to his forehead. Paul was sure he looked like a drowned rat.

“Um…” Hugh blinked, apparently unsure of how to respond. “Hi... I’m guessing you’re Paul’s roommate?” He shot the blond-haired man a vaguely concerned look when Paul let out a pitiful groan from the carpet which he seemed to be hiding his face in.

“I am indeed,” Straal said agreeably, still smirking because he was _evil_ although he seemed to be appraising the doctor with his dark gaze. “My name is Elias Straal-Niemczyk. I’m part Polish, part German, but _all_ genius.”

“He’s also incredibly modest,” Paul said sourly as he finally clambered to his feet, pulling his traitorous jeans up as Hugh edged in when Straal spread his arm in welcome. “Hello, doctor. I’m sorry about… this. I overslept.”

“Not at all,” Hugh said although he still looked a little embarrassed, probably because Straal was grinning like the Cheshire cat beside them. “I think I’m early actually.”

“Straal’s going to find himself in an early grave if he doesn’t leave the room right this second,” Paul said in the same mild tone. His roommate snorted with laughter upon hearing that but he did have the good grace to leave which was a slim silver lining. Hugh relaxed visibly when Straal was gone and Paul let out a heavy sigh, rubbing the back of his neck wearily.

“I really _am_ sorry about this,” he said as the taller man drifted closer, dressed in a dark blue knitted jumper that clung so beautifully to his shoulders that it made Paul's mouth go dry. Hugh shrugged like he didn’t mind before his eyes glittered with wry amusement.

“I like your t-shirt,” he said and Paul frowned, dropping his gaze curiously before immediately wishing he hadn’t. His cheeks flamed and he cursed although, on the bright side, at least he knew why Straal had grinned quite so evilly now.

The t-shirt Paul was currently wearing had a badly drawn mushroom on the front, along with ‘ _Say hi to me. I’m a fungi_ ’ scrawled below in Straal’s messy handwriting (so apparently he _hadn’t_ been joking when he'd suggested that the other week).

That was it.

Paul was going to _kill_ him… once the ground had swallowed him whole. Hopefully that happened first.

“We can’t go on our date now,” Paul said. “I need to stay here and plot my roommate’s untimely demise before he comes home from wherever he’s skulking.” Hugh laughed quietly and Paul let out a pitiful groan. “This is awkward, isn’t it? It feels awkward.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” the doctor said and, despite the teasing in his voice, his eyes were soft. “I like seeing you here like this. It feels… natural.”

“What? Me getting pissed off by my arsehole of a roommate and wearing a fucking _mushroom_ t-shirt?!” Paul retorted but he was smiling a little despite himself as he turned away to pull the t-shirt off. He dropped it on the floor and made sure to stamp on it as he went to find a less offensive garment but, before he had time to slip it on, he happened to glance up and found Hugh watching him in the mirror.

His chocolate brown eyes were tracing every inch of pale skin displayed to him with something that was almost hunger but he seemed to wither when he noticed Paul watching him knowingly in the reflection. Hugh immediately dragged his eyes to the window and Paul let a soft laugh escape.

“Are you pretending to birdwatch?” he asked after a few moments, neglecting to put on the shirt as he finally turned to face the doctor. He felt strangely confident when Hugh’s eyes immediately flicked back to drink him in and Paul tossed the shirt uncaringly over his desk chair, drifting closer. Hugh swallowed audibly and the blond man’s lips tugged up into a slight smile.

“Paul –” the taller man began weakly and Paul’s smile spread.

“We've been going on dates for over two months now, dear doctor. You're allowed to _touch me_ ,” the blond man said, sounding much more confident than he felt. “I won't break.” Hugh stepped closer to settle his hands lightly on Paul’s waist and he smiled against the doctor’s lips. “I'm not made of glass.”

Hugh kissed him and Paul hummed with satisfaction, reaching behind him blindly for something to lean against and gasping when Hugh lifted him – seemingly without effort – onto the desk. (Paul realised with enormous satisfaction that it was _Straal’s_ desk too and he made sure to knock off everything he could reach.)

“Love when you do that,” Hugh breathed and Paul made a small noise of confusion, his head tipping back as a soft moan escaped him when Hugh began to press kisses down his throat as his hands mapped out the blond man’s bare chest.

“When I do what?” Paul asked, his voice catching in his throat when he felt Hugh’s teeth grazing lightly against his pale skin. A shiver ran through him and Hugh smiled against his shoulder as his hands rubbed the blond man’s sides soothingly.

“You tell the truth,” the doctor answered breathlessly, hips jerking a little when Paul brought him closer, wrapping his legs around the taller man’s waist. “You don’t dance around it. You just… you say it how it is. _Exactly_ how it is. I bet you’ve never sugared your words in your life.”

Paul laughed softly before he drew Hugh back in for a brief kiss that melted the last of the anxiety from his chest.

“Not sure sugaring my words is something I’m capable of,” he agreed before Hugh’s hips rocked perfectly against his and words stopped being possible. One of Hugh’s hands – so large and with these fucking _fingers_ that Paul couldn't stop himself from staring at – settled on the wall behind them as he braced himself and things were _just_ starting to get interesting when the door opened behind them, and a panicked squawk broke the quiet.

“Guys, what the fuck?!” Straal cried. “You’re making out? On _my_ desk?!”

Hugh buried his face in the blond man’s shoulder as his embarrassment overwhelmed him and Paul snorted, patting the doctor’s back comfortingly as he shot Straal a flat smile that didn’t touch his eyes.

“ _That’s_ for writing on my t-shirt,” he said. “Although, to be fair, I didn’t actually expect you back any time soon. Why are you trying so hard to ruin my morning?”

Hugh let out a surprised laugh as Straal finally pushed the door shut behind him, glowering at them both as he stamped over to his chest of drawers.

“I came back to get a jacket,” he said sulkily. “But then on my way up I decided I’d apologise for being so obnoxious earlier and offer to get you both lunch. But now? Oh boy, _now_? Now I’m just going to cry in the bathroom and possibly pour some bleach in my eyes too. Anything to rid myself of that eyeful you so thoughtfully gave me.”

Hugh laughed even more as he struggled to right his jeans and Paul pushed himself up straighter, rolling his eyes loftily.

“Oh please,” he muttered, trying not to smile. “You didn’t even see anything!”

“Yes I did!” Straal argued. “You were touching his arse, Stamets! His _arse_!”

Paul shrugged, pretending to examine his fingernails.

“Can you blame me?” he asked fairly. “It’s a nice arse.”

“I’m being objectified,” Hugh said. “I’m standing right in front of you and I’m being objectified. I might be a fine piece of arse but I still have _feelings_!”

“Can you hear someone talking, Straal?” the blond man asked sweetly and Hugh stuck his tongue out which made Paul’s heart melt in his chest.

“There’s no one here but us, Stamets,” Straal said although he was looking less traumatised by the minute.

“You two are insufferable,” Hugh said with a pout but his eyes were _sparkling_ now as he exchanged an eye roll with Paul’s roommate.

“He started it,” Straal said, gesturing to the blond man’s smug face with what he probably hoped was wounded dignity.

“Well, I’m ending it,” Hugh decided, quickly making sure Paul’s jeans were on right before he risked stepping back from the desk they’d appropriated. The blond man smiled cheerfully when Straal flipped him the bird but his hand reached out to take Hugh’s and neither of them commented on it.

“How about we get that lunch you promised?” Paul asked innocently, fooling no one.

Straal snorted as the blond man clumsily found his way into the unsullied t-shirt he’d found.

“It’s not even half ten yet,” he said loftily. “However, if you promise never to use my desk as some sort of sordid love nest again, I may treat you both to brunch.”

“ _Love nest_?!” Paul gasped with a horrified look, just as Hugh spat the word: “ _Brunch_?!” in much the same tone.

Straal’s dark eyes crinkled as he smiled and he gave the pair of them a fond – if exasperated – look.

“You two dating is going to be a lot of fun, isn’t it?” he asked and, although both of them blushed and refused to comment, Paul had to admit that – as the three of them walked down the tree-lined street a few minutes later, swapping jokes and teasing each other – his roommate probably made a very good point.

He was so relieved that his two favourite people were getting along so well with each other.

Paul hadn’t felt this happy in a very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! :)  
> Can't wait to hear what you thought <3


	5. Omphalotus Japonicus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Omphalotus japonicus_ \- moonlight mushroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry for the wait!  
> There is angst, backstory, kissing, and Culmets giving me chest pain!  
> Hope you enjoy <3

“Fuck.” Paul slumped down onto his bed and glared up at the ceiling, his heart hammering in his ribs. The curtains were open a crack and the sky was black outside as the lights around campus burnt amber beneath the stars, and it should have been _beautiful_ but all he could focus on was the anxiety clawing a home in the confines of his ribs. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_!”

There was a party closer to home tonight, the dull thump of bass rolling across the quad but Paul could barely hear it beneath the frantic pounding of his racing heart.

It had been a terrible day; he’d only got eighty per cent on a paper he’d worked _really_ fucking hard on and, to top it all off, one of the students who’d hit him before had given him a shove on his way out of a lecture today, presumably just to remind him that they still thought he was an obnoxious waste of space.

Several people had yelled at the bully to back off but even the shocking revelation that Paul had actually made acquaintances of many of his classmates hadn’t been enough to prevent him from sinking down into his despair. It surprised him how badly being made to feel like that _hurt_ , even after the difficult upbringing he’d had.

Apparently being able to suppress his feelings was something Paul would never be able to do and it bothered him more than he could say. Straal hadn’t wanted to leave him tonight but Paul had insisted he go to the party… insisted that his roommate actually spend time with people who had senses of humours and, you know, maybe knew how to _smile_ and stuff. Paul’s relief had been palpable when his concerned roommate had finally allowed himself to be manhandled out of the door but the feeling had been short-lived and, almost as soon as Straal’s footsteps had faded down the corridor, Paul’s sadness had made itself known.

“ _Montagnea arenaria_ \- desert inkcap,” he murmured as he shakily pushed himself up into a sitting position from the mattress he’d slumped down upon. “ _Mucronella pendula_ \- icicle spine.” His knuckles were bone white as he twisted his fingers nervously in his lap and the duvet became rumpled as he struggled uselessly to get comfortable. “ _Mutinus borneensis_ \- yellow dog stinkhorn. _Mycena aurantiidisca_ \- tangerine bonnet.”

Paul wondered if Straal would have fun tonight; if he’d go home with someone and return to Paul tomorrow morning, wearing last night’s clothes and that satisfied smirk the blond man had seen a few times over the last few months… or maybe Straal would come home early instead, trying uselessly to cheer Paul up with pointed comments about Christmas and ‘Doctor Love’.

Paul wondered how annoyed Straal would be when he refused to open the door for him if his roommate came stumbling back without his key pass again.

“ _Mycena interrupta_ \- pixie's parasol. _Mycena leaiana_ \- golden bonnet. _Mycena strobilinoides_ \- flame bonnet.” He could hear drunken voices joining the thump of bass outside now, singing what _might_ have been carols as he slumped back down onto his bed again, groaning as he folded the pillow around his head. Paul didn’t want to hear this; didn’t want to be reminded of those shitty Christmas holidays back home where he’d always felt like a spare part.

It made him feel small and sad and unwanted, and there weren’t many things he hated more than that. Vulnerability was right at the very top of the list of Things Paul Stamets Detests, closely followed by alcohol and people asking him stupid questions about his mushrooms.

“ _Mycena viscidocruenta_ \- ruby bonnet,” he muttered, his heart slowly beginning to calm in his chest although his hands still fisted in the duvet. “ _Nidula niveotomentosa_ \- woolly bird's nest. _Omphalotus japonicus_ \- moonlight mushroom.”

A low knock sounded at the door and Paul cursed as he sat up slowly, seriously considering ignoring it before a soft voice called his name and he realised who was waiting for him on the other side. The blond man got to his feet slowly, dressed only in a faded black sweatshirt and some hideously patterned red gingham pyjama trousers which were functional, if not particularly fashionable.

Paul opened the door a crack - just to be safe - but he’d been certain of who was standing outside from the very moment his pulse calmed in his veins.

“Good evening, dear doctor,” he said softly as he pushed the door open. “This is a surprise.”

Hugh smiled timidly from the faded carpet he was fidgeting on, dressed in an oversized hoodie and joggers which made him look a lot softer than he usually did in his uniform. The lights were dim out in the hallway - probably only at forty per cent because of the late hour - and Paul had to swallow past the lump rising in his throat when he saw his boyfriend watching him with poorly-suppressed concern saturating his lovely face.

The doctor drew him into a wordless hug, right there in the doorway, and Paul melted into it without meaning to as his arms wrapped tightly around the taller man’s waist. Hugh brushed a chaste kiss over his blond hair and it was suddenly a hundred times harder to keep from crying.

“Straal called me,” the doctor said gently, his face falling when Paul stiffened upon hearing that. “Said you could use some company tonight.”

Paul pressed his lips together unhappily when he heard that, turning away to pull the door shut and glaring at the grainy wood as he folded his arms across his chest. His expression - when Hugh finally reached out to turn him around - was sullen.

“I’m not a charity case, doctor,” Paul said sharply, mostly because he felt like he would crumble without his prickly defensiveness to keep him going. “I don’t expect you to just drop everything and come round here whenever I’m having a less-than-perfect night.”

Hugh reached out to brush a lock of blond hair away from Paul’s forehead.

“Maybe I’m just here because I missed you,” the doctor said calmly, one eyebrow rising quizzically when Paul watched him in shock. The response would have rolled off his tongue naturally if Hugh had given a sharp retort but… _kindness_? Paul didn’t even know where to start.

He turned away again instead, squaring his shoulders and setting his jaw in an attempt to hide how much Hugh continued to shake him up at every turn. Paul didn’t like feeling so wrong-footed - didn’t like the butterflies in his stomach or the tightness in his chest whenever he looked into the doctor’s eyes - but, even despite his fear, it was harder than it should have been to cross the room without looking back.

Hugh’s disappointed sigh was just a little too loud in the sudden silence.

“Please don’t shut me out, Paul,” the doctor begged as he watched his boyfriend helplessly. “I just want -”

“ _Onnia tomentosa_ \- velvet rosette,” Paul muttered as he reached his bed, his body hunched inside the too-big sweatshirt he was wearing as it slipped down his shoulder to reveal shockingly pale skin. Hugh watched him from his place by the door with sad eyes, taking in the slump of Paul’s posture and the sigh that left him when he settled back limply onto the mattress again.

“ _Ophiocordyceps sinensis_ \- chinese caterpillar fungus. _Peziza azureoides_ \- azure cup,” the blond man continued, purposefully raising his voice when Hugh took a step closer, the doctor’s mind whirring as he tried to think of the best way to get his boyfriend to snap out of this. So far, he wasn’t having much luck.

“ _Phaeocollybia christinae_ \- Christina’s rootshank. _Phallus ind_ -”

“ _Phallus_?” Hugh interrupted, wiggling his eyebrows stupidly. There was a moment of absolute silence before Paul huffed out a quiet snort of laughter, presumably without meaning to if his suddenly irritated expression was anything to go by.

“ _Phallus indusiatus_ is the scientific name for Veiled Lady,” he said in a flat voice and Hugh nodded knowledgeably, pressing his lips together to keep from smiling with relief.

“I’ll take your word for it, honey,” he said and the continued warmth of his tone seemed to finally do the job of melting the ice in Paul’s veins… unless Hugh calling him ‘honey’ had done the trick instead. Hugh had never called him that before and the evidence was Paul’s blush spreading all the way to his ears as he gawped at his boyfriend in surprise.

“What a precious little tomato plant,” Hugh said, cradling one flaming red cheek gently and making Paul stick his tongue out in a pitiful imitation of his usual sarcasm. His blue eyes were red with tears though and Hugh held the blond man to his chest as he carefully settled down on the bed too, wrapping his arms warmly around him.

“Sorry,” Paul mumbled into the quiet that had fallen, his voice muffled in the soft material of Hugh’s hoodie as the blond man buried his face in his boyfriend’s chest for a moment, just breathing in the comforting smell of him. The doctor carded his fingers gently through his boyfriend’s hair and Paul exhaled shakily as he chanced a glance up, looking so tired and sad that it made Hugh’s chest hurt.

The doctor wasn’t deluded enough to think he could wipe the pain away but he could at least support his boyfriend through it. That much was at least within his power.

“Don’t be sorry,” Hugh murmured. “Just… don’t bottle things up. It’ll only make you feel worse in the long run. I thought we both valued honesty, yeah? Maybe this can be an exercise in that.”

“Sure, maybe.” Paul’s snort told the doctor _exactly_ what he thought of that suggestion but he also started to speak which was more than Hugh had been hoping for so he was going to count this one as a victory. “I just… this has been a no-good, awful, terrible, bad day and… and then _you_ showed up… and you made me feel okay again… and I hate it, dear doctor. I don’t want to rely on you but… but I do. I _do_.”

Hugh’s heart threatened to stop in his chest as he processed those words, his arms tightening around the blond man automatically when he saw the despairing tears welling in his beautiful eyes again. Hugh simply cuddled him closer and tucked his face away into Paul’s neck for a moment, just kissing the skin presented to him until the blond man relaxed with a broken little sigh.

“Everyone’s allowed to rely on someone sometimes, Paul,” Hugh whispered when he thought the words might finally be accepted. “Even you.”

 _Especially_ you.

Paul bristled a little like he knew what the doctor was thinking but he listened to the words without comment. There was something bone-tired in his narrow frame that made Hugh think he wasn’t sleeping enough and he vowed to ask Straal about that in private the next time he saw his new friend.

He wanted to make sure Paul was safe… or as safe as he could be when his own mind seemed to be warring with his body a lot of the time. Hugh remembered that day outside the canteen for a moment - remembered the hollowness of the blond man’s expression when he told him he didn’t care about himself - and Hugh swore then that he would make it his life’s mission to change that, no matter the cost.

He’d remind Paul of how much he loved him _forever_ if he needed to and -

Shit.

 _Shit_.

Did Hugh just think ‘love’? Did he just realise he _loved_ Paul?

It seemed ridiculously obvious now that the word was out there, floating around his brain while warning lights flashed and alarms rang and -

Oh god.

Hugh was in _love_ with Paul Stamets.

That was just all kinds of… terrifying? Inconvenient? Amazing?

“What’s amazing?” Paul asked with a frown. Hugh froze when he realised he’d said the last word out loud although he quickly recovered.

“You,” he said simply, almost without hesitation. “You’re amazing, Paul. I just realised how lucky I am to have you and it just slipped out.”

The science student rolled his eyes fondly but he seemed less distressed now and his lack of murmuring about mushrooms could only be a positive.

“How can I make you feel better, honey?” Hugh asked and Paul’s cheeks stained red again as he fought a tired smile.

“Can you just talk to me, please?” His voice was soft in the quiet, his eyelashes spiky with tears. Hugh pressed a soft kiss to his lips and Paul’s tense limbs grew looser in the doctor’s arms. “You can talk about anything. I don’t care. I just… don’t want to think.”

“I can do that,” Hugh promised, taking in the absolute beauty of Paul’s upturned face in the soft light for a moment before he stroked the pad of his thumb lightly over the blond man’s cheekbone. It was soft and warm cuddled up on the mattress, and Paul looked so cosy in his pyjamas that Hugh couldn’t resist holding him closer as he tried to decide what to say.

“Any time today, dear doctor,” Paul said wryly and Hugh harrumphed good-naturedly, a dry smile twisting his lips.

“I don’t know what to say,” he admitted and the blond man shook his head with undeniable fondness.

“A secret,” he decided as his eyes sparkled in the dim light. “Something you’ve never told anyone before.”

“Is this you trying to uncover my tragic backstory?” Hugh asked teasingly but the gentle kiss he pressed to his boyfriend’s nose took any possible sting from his words. “Fine,” he said jokingly. “I’ll tell you… but just briefly. No scandalous specifics.” For just a moment, Hugh looked small as he lay huddled there on the bed. “It might be boring,” he warned suddenly and Paul’s blue eyes softened as he draped his arm lazily over the doctor’s waist.

“That’s not possible,” Paul assured him softly. “But you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. Just the truth. I want to know you better.”

“Fine,” Hugh said, sticking his tongue out playfully because he didn’t know how to process the confusing feelings he could feel whirling around in his head. “I’m going to tell you a hugely condensed version of why I wanted to become a doctor, yeah?”

“I’ll listen with rapt attention,” Paul said but, despite the sarcastic lilt to his words, Hugh knew he was being sincere.

“So… our sorry tale starts in downtown New York,” the doctor said in what he probably hoped was a dramatic voice. It just came out sounding small though and Paul huddled closer to him because, beneath the bravado Hugh was projecting, Paul thought he might be sad. “I lived in this tiny house with my three little sisters and my parents. I was your typical boring A-grade student – good at school, liked by my classmates, friend of cats and dogs all over town. I mean, people used to pay me to wash their cars and paint their fences. I was _that_ good.”

“Sickening,” Paul teased, smiling crookedly. “Bet your folks were pretty stoked that you were such a shining little member of the community, right?”

“Wrong,” Hugh said and, despite his singsong voice, there was definitely something darker in his eyes now. “Because the pair of them had been so lazy and unmotivated during their own school days, they pushed me, like, ridiculously hard to do well. By the time I was ten, they were breathing down my neck all the time, trying to get me to choose a career so that I wouldn’t remain stuck planet-side like they did.” Hugh’s expression twisted as he glared up at the ceiling. “Maybe I was their second chance.”

“You were just a kid,” Paul interjected softly but Hugh just shook his head.

“Not for long,” he said. “My mum died of the Legato Infection when I was fourteen. I won’t go into the gory details of it but… that was a really bad time for me. My dad turned to alcohol when mum was gone and I pretty much had to raise the girls on my own. Freya and Annabelle tried to help out around the house when they could but… Olivia was struggling herself – dad wasn't good at supporting her with her autism, see? – and… and it was a lot for me to deal with. Too much really.”

“That would be too much for anyone,” Paul breathed, one hand rising to cradle his boyfriend’s squared jaw gently. “You did amazing to look after your sisters like that. _Amazing_. I’m so proud of you.”

Hugh’s eyes grew wet but he hugged Paul tightly, their legs tangling together comfortingly as Paul thumbed a tear away gently.

“It was… it was really hard,” Hugh choked out and, despite the shame he could feel bubbling away inside, the strange softness of Paul’s expression muted it somehow… made the pain lessen enough to breathe past. “I started to hate New York after that. It was too bright, too loud, too _much_. Everything felt like too much then. My schoolwork started to suffer and I had to work the nightshift of this fast food place which made me pretty much want to set fire to myself every time I walked in the door.” Hugh smiled humourlessly and Paul’s heart panged in his chest.

“The work was messy, the customers were rude, and the pay was _terrible_ but I needed to do it for the girls, see? They needed money for food and water, and electricity and new shoes way more than they needed someone there to cuddle them while dad was yelling in another room. I… I used to miss doing my homework because I was trying to make the girls dinner or iron their uniforms or… or stop dad from choking to death on his own fucking sick.”

Paul flinched but Hugh’s voice stayed flat and that was almost worse… that he was still suppressing it even now… or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe he was just working his way through his past experiences the best he could. That seemed a lot more likely and Paul’s pride for his boyfriend only tripled because Hugh needed his _support_ ; not his judgement.

“What changed?” Paul asked quietly, when it soon became apparent that the taller man wasn’t going to speak again without prompting. “What was the turning point?”

Hugh’s forced smile slipped away like smoke but Paul was almost glad of it because here was the honesty he had asked for. Here was the trust Hugh was showing him.

“Dad nearly died one night,” he said. “The girls were playing in the living room and I remember I was out on the tiny balcony of this horrible cramped flat we’d moved into, just standing there in the dark and wondering if it was high enough to…” Hugh shook his head, falling quiet. “That’s a gory detail which is thankfully no longer a reality,” he said quietly. “Needless to say, I had had enough. I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life but I was fifteen and I felt like it could only get worse.”

“What happened?” Paul breathed, his eyes deeply unhappy as he pulled his boyfriend into a tight hug. His anxious thoughts of earlier in the day felt like a million years ago now but that was nothing new; Hugh had always been excellent at coaxing him out of his own head.

“Dad had been drinking whiskey,” the doctor said after a long moment but the years seemed to have fallen from his face now and he looked like a child in Paul’s arms. “I still remember the smell of it. He was staggering about when something must have triggered Olivia because she started screaming. It just happened with her sometimes and the key was not to show you were upset; you just had to hold her and stroke her hair until she was calm again but… dad was no good. He started yelling at her to stop and she lashed out at him – again, this was _normal_ for her when she was panicking – but dad wasn’t used to it and he just… he fell. She sent him flying and he broke the bottle he’d been holding, and it nicked the artery in his leg.”

Paul’s hand had come up to cover his mouth of its own accord and Hugh closed his eyes, smiling wetly like he was trying to reassure his boyfriend even now.

“Freya started to cry and Annabelle called an ambulance, and I just knelt there with my school jumper held to his leg, trying to keep him from bleeding out. Liv went quiet, just sitting there with these big round eyes and Freya was trying to comfort her, and dad started saying how _sorry_ he was but… it felt like it was too late.”

Hugh’s eyes were faraway now and Paul got the distinct impression that the taller man had never spoken these words to anyone before.

“I managed to keep dad alive until the paramedics got there,” Hugh said into the stunned silence that had settled between them. “Once they’d got dad stabilised and loaded into the back of the ambulance, one of them stayed behind with us kids while we waited for social services to come and collect us. I just remember him clapping me on the shoulder and telling me I’d done a good job – I remember it making me fucking _glow_ because no one praised me back then – and… and that was when I realised that I _did_ know what I wanted to do after all.”

Hugh’s smile was faint but very, very strong.

“I wanted to heal people,” he said quietly. “I wanted to fix them up and make them feel okay again. I wanted to become a doctor first, and then the Chief Medical Officer on a flagship. I wanted to get the fuck out of New York and never, ever look back. I wanted to live my own life for a change.”

Hugh let out a deep breath and some of the tension leaked out of him like air from a balloon.

“We lived with a foster family until we were eighteen,” he said in a softer voice. “They were good to us. Really, really good. I passed my exams and I went off to med school, and I didn’t have to worry about the girls because I knew they were happy too… even _Liv_. I’d kept them all alive and done my bit, and we didn’t have to see dad anymore and… and for the most part, we were okay after that. I just…”

“You just what?” Paul asked softly and Hugh’s teeth worried at his bottom lip as he lay huddled in his oversized hoodie, his socked feet tucked between Paul’s as they shared a pillow, noses almost touching.

“I still hated myself for blaming my parents,” Hugh admitted in a whisper. “It never felt okay to feel that way. I mean… my mum couldn’t help getting sick and my dad couldn’t help having an addiction. Blaming them didn’t help anyone.”

“You were just a kid,” Paul repeated and his voice was firmer now as he sat up, helping Hugh up too and settling his palms comfortingly on the taller man’s broad shoulders. “You weren’t equipped to deal with what you were going through and being angry was the only way you knew how to cope. You shouldn’t hate yourself for that.” A peculiar expression suddenly swam over his face and he went pale. “Wow. I just realised how absolutely hypocritical that was.”

“Pot, kettle,” Hugh quipped, giving a watery smile when Paul shoved him weakly in the shoulder. His face quickly crumpled though and Paul drew him wordlessly into a warm hug.

“They weren’t very good parents,” Hugh whispered, his tears dampening the warm skin of Paul’s neck as the blond man rubbed his back comfortingly. “But they were the only ones I had.”

Paul’s free hand tangled with Hugh’s and he squeezed it comfortingly in the shadows between them.

“It’s okay,” the blond man murmured and it took Hugh a moment to realise that he was crying, great heaving sobs that threatened to tear him apart. “Dear, _dear_ doctor.” Paul’s palms found his cheeks and Hugh gasped out another sob when Paul brushed a chaste kiss over his forehead. “It’s like you always tell me, right? You’re allowed to feel. You’re allowed to _cry_. It doesn’t mean you’re broken or weak. It means you’ve been strong for too long.”

“Tonight was supposed to be about me comforting _you_.”

“I don’t mind,” Paul said and the tiny smile he gave was genuine. “Makes me feel like less of a mess if we’re _both_ crying.” His smile widened suddenly. “Hey, maybe it’s the pressure of exams turning us into nervous wrecks.”

“We don’t have exams for months, honey, but nice try,” Hugh muttered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly although he was slowly regaining control of himself now. It surprised him enormously when he realised that he actually felt _better_ for having cried and Paul’s expression turned knowing as he raised an eyebrow wordlessly.

“Oh shut up,” Hugh muttered to his boyfriend and Paul smirked.

“I didn’t even say anything.”

“You didn’t have to!”

Paul silenced him with a kiss and Hugh sighed into it, relaxing enormously when Paul soothingly stroked the back of his neck with his cool fingertips. It was fully dark outside now and the snow was just beginning to fall when Hugh’s soft expression suddenly became inquisitive.

“Do _you_ want a family one day, Paul?” he asked. “Because I do. I don’t want to let what happened make me bitter. I want to prove that… y’know, I can do it _right_. That I can have kids and make them feel loved without them having to try. No kid should have to fight to be loved.”

Paul swallowed past the lump in his throat.

“You’re right,” he said tearfully, for once unashamed of his emotions because… god, he’d never even entertained the idea of a family of his own but suddenly it was all he could think of. He desperately wanted a house with a white picket fence and two kids, maybe a cat or a dog, but most of all Hugh because if the doctor wasn’t there, none of it would matter at all.

“I want one too,” Paul admitted before he forced a watery smile. “Need some kids I can teach about mushrooms, right? Gotta get them interested in spores from a very young age.”

“Paul Stamets, you are _not_ turning our kids into mini astromycologists!” Hugh said firmly and, although they were both giggling stupidly at the joke, their eyes widened too and something passed between them that was too delicate to name.

It frightened the blond man a lot: the rawness and vulnerability unfurling in his chest.

“Dear doctor, what are you afraid of?” Paul whispered and something softened in Hugh’s eyes.

“Losing the people I love,” the taller man replied quietly. “I never want that to happen again.”

Paul leant forwards to kiss him, his palms cradling the taller man’s face for a moment while he delayed Hugh asking the inevitable question.

“What about you?” the doctor asked predictably and Paul smiled tightly.

“I’m scared of…” His voice trailed away for a moment, barely loud enough to hear as he fought against his worry. He didn’t want to say the words out loud but his boyfriend had shown him such honesty tonight and Paul trusted Hugh more than he could say.

“I’m scared I’ll go my whole life without anyone ever really loving me.”

Paul’s teeth sank into his bottom lip to keep it from wobbling and the doctor’s brow creased as he gently held his boyfriend’s hands.

“Straal loves you,” Hugh said hesitantly but his heart was trying to beat right out of his chest when he deliberately caught the blond man’s gaze. “ _I_ love you.”

Paul gasped like he’d been punched in the chest.

“Oh,” he said in a strangled voice. “Groovy. A Christmas miracle.” His sarcasm fell flat when a tear ran down his cheek. He touched it like he was surprised but, as he processed the moisture on his fingertips, he heaved forwards with a sob and Hugh pulled him in tightly.

“You don’t have to say it back,” he whispered as he pressed a soft kiss to the blond man’s hair. “You just have to believe it.” Hugh hesitated for a moment before a quiet chuckle escaped him. “I can’t believe you said ‘groovy’ then. I’m never going to let you live that down.”

“You horror,” Paul muttered and Hugh gave his best innocent smile.

“You angel,” he responded.

Paul gave him a bland smile which didn’t _quite_ hide the blush rising in his cheeks.

“... not quite what I was expecting, dear doctor,” he admitted and Hugh’s smile lit up his whole face.

“You should be used to that with me.”

Their classmates were still partying somewhere on campus but the atmosphere in the dorm room grew calmer after that as the pair of them snuggled up on the bed and, by the time it reached midnight, they had passed out in each other’s arms.

When Straal finally came home hours later, he found the pair of them fast asleep on top of the sheets, fully clothed and wrapped around each other, cuddling _so_ tight.

He could hear students faintly singing drunken carols outside as they staggered home across the quad and his heart felt soft in his chest as he softly murmured for the lights to go out.

Straal hoped Paul and Hugh stayed together for a very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Please let me know what you thought :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Please let me know if you liked this and I'll do my best to upload fairly frequently :)  
> I'd love to hear what you thought <3


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